Songs as Weapons
by shewhowasnamedanyway.bummer
Summary: Songfics: Songs that I've listened and enjoyed, but I've felt mesh well with certain aspects of Death Note. I'm not complete accurate to Death note or the songs. But certain things mesh well together (in my head) Enjoy! Currently Seether, Flyleaf, Evanescence
1. Chapter 1

**Light doesn't feel guilt, what does he have to feel guilty for? Yet something in him is telling him that there is. What is it that he can do? (WARNING there very well may be OOC-ness, I tried to keep Light Light for the majority of the fic, so sorry if offend people)**

**DISCLAIMER: Do not own Death Note or Seether**

**Characters main: Light, L**

**Words as Weapons:**

-O-

In a room such as the HQ for the task force and co. it's cold. There are metal stairs leading to other floors and then to other rooms. There are glass table-tops and leather couches and computers covering one wall. Really, it isn't a warm and cozy place to sit and chat. Its purpose wasn't for warm and cozy feelings. Yet, with all of the cold and hard surfaces Light felt like he was on _fire_. He was burning from the inside out. His head pounded for no particular reason and his eyes couldn't stare at the screen in front of him any longer. He refused to make it seem that he was weak and rub his eyes or his head. The pain wasn't real anyway. It was something else. It was _definitely not guilt. _It wasn't fear. It wasn't hurt. It wasn't _feeling._

Beside him, L stared unmoving and unaffected by the bright white screen blaring into his retinas. They were probably creating imprints on his vision, sure to follow his gaze no matter where he decided to look. Behind Light, there was no one. His father and the others went home. He was alone with the detective. A faint smell of sweet cheesecake whispered at his nostrils. He wasn't one to like sweets or eat them. But that smell, seemed comfortingly familiar. He sighed and the smell became even clearer. He couldn't bare the agonizing twist of his stomach. Words would spill, though, instead of any bodily fluid.

"L," He spoke finally and surprisingly didn't blurt out everything. The teenager desperate to maintain control was still in control. The detective looked up and one eyebrow disappeared in his fringe of ebony hair. "Why do you keep asking me these questions? Why am I suspect? Why are you so determined to pin this on me?" This time he lost control of his words and he cursed himself for it.

"Because my word isn't enough to satisfy the law and without the questions and close observation then I cannot prove or disprove my theory," He answered dully, as if Light expected anything less. He felt hinges release. Floodgates opened and waves of emotion overpowered his being. He scuffed and stood, he ran his fingers through his hair and sneered.

"Keep me locked up in your broken mind," He spat at the metal floor. "I keep searching, never been able to find a light behind your dead eyes; not anything at all." His breath was coming in shallow. His heart pounded. L turned to him.

"You keeping living in your own lie; ever deceitful and ever unfaithful." For once there was a small hint at an emotion in the apathetic detective's voice. Light couldn't identify it and that drove him crazy.

"Right, L, keep me guessing, keep me terrified," His voice shook. "Take everything from my world."

The two were silent and that heat that was eating Light up seemed to intensify. He shook and he felt parched. He thirsted for something, but not to drink. L's face wasn't apathetic, a sliver of emotion seeped through his mask of indifference.

L stood and the only sound came from the chime of the chain clinking on his chair. L breathed, "Keep me dumb, keep me paralyzed, it's so frustrating. You're a case I can't crack so easily." L's obsidian eyes actually narrowed. Light felt the pain in his head worsen.

"I try so hard to prove to you that I'm innocent. It's like a never-ending battle with you. Why try swimming, I'm drowning in fable." Light growled and again ran his hand through brown locks. L took a step forward. This wasn't what Light expected. His answers were cryptic, but Light felt that they were painfully obvious. He wasn't seeing L's words like he should.

"You're not that saint that you externalize." L said quietly and was now only inches from Light. Light felt, not anger, he felt sadness; like he really was feeling guilt. But what was he guilty for? He heard a voice echo through his head like a spirit that wouldn't cross over.

_All I really want is something beautiful to say._

He refused to show his sadness and he scuffed again, "It's all so playful when you demonize. To spit out the hateful, your words are weapons of the terrified. You're nothing in my world." His forced and false smile dropped when he felt cool hands gently touch his cheeks and cup his face. His voice couldn't find sound to protest.

His throat was dry and it felt like he was trying to swallow a stone.

"All I really want… is something beautiful say." He choked. He was humiliated. He wasn't Light. Yet, he was.

"You just keep living in your own lie." L uttered.

"Something beautiful to say." The world melted into absent noise. The cold was nothing if not nonexistent, Light was on fire. L's hands seemed to cool him off, soothing the burns. He felt burning liquid in his eyes but that control he longed to have consitently allowed him to keep the tears from falling. "To never fade away, I want to live forever." His voice a whisper, L smiled but not mockingly. He smiled a small and warm smile.

"I'm afraid that's impossible."


	2. Chapter 2

**The question that stands after episode 36 is, "where does he go?" (If you didn't watched the relight) (I actually believe I stuck to the characters pretty well. WOOHOO)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own death note or anything by Flyleaf.**

**Fire, Fire:**

**-O-**

The last thing that ran through Light's mind as he lay on those metal stairs was not, "I lost." The last thing that rain through his thoughts like deer running from the hunter was, "what next?" His fate wasn't known. He wouldn't go to Hell, even though he was sure that they'd prefer it that way. He wouldn't go to Heaven as if that _God _would let him. Would he float through shadows like a pathetic balloon? Or would he just vanish? He hoped to vanish; to not exist anymore.

The last thing he saw before the tell-tale pain shot through his left arm and to his chest was blue.

He opened his eyes, but he didn't. It was the feeling of seeing something past his eyelids. He looked around and he still saw blackness, it was more like a room with no windows and the lights turned off. He swallowed, but again it felt like his _mind_ was going through the motions not his body. What was this place? He couldn't open his mouth to ask, it was glued shut by nothing but the fact it wouldn't open. Light tried to get up but he was stuck on the 'ground.'

Then the same blue light from before he died flashed in front of his retinas and glared. He tried to squint but his eyes wouldn't shut because they weren't open to begin with. The light faded and all that was left was another figure emanating its own light. He looked closer and he gulped again.

"Hello, Light-kun," L greeted as if they both weren't dead, as if they were in the HQ again. "Your God-complex caught up to you? You aren't God now, are you?" These weren't L questions; these were sarcastic, cynical questions. He sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

What frustrated Light was that he couldn't answer. He could only scream inside and he couldn't argue with his dead foe because he was right. He failed as God. L smirked.

"Now, we really are equals," L leered.

Light glared.

Finally Light felt something. He felt burning in his veins, actual burning. Like his blood was fuel and someone finally lit the fire. He stiffened and the fire burned on unseeing. He struggled against it the best he could but he couldn't move and he felt the fire sear his skin and burn through to his bones. He felt tears seep out of his ducts.

"You almost thought you made it home, but you don't know that place at all." L started circling Light. Light heard L scuff, "That's enough now dry your tears,"

The fire bit at his flesh and gnawed at his bone. Like knives stabbing continuously in the same spots over and over again; grinding into his muscles and tendons.

"It's been a long 6 years, Light. Aren't you glad it's over?" Light saw L's face again, but this time it looked morose. It was L again. Light screamed inside his head and repeated again and again _why_ and _stop_. L closed his eyes. "Fire is one thing that seems befitting of someone like you, fire from the tongues of liars."

Finally, the flames were gone and Light took a breath but finding no solace in air. It wasn't necessary anymore, he was dead. A heart beat later and a new pain over took Light's senses. Needles of pain stabbed at his toes and fingertips. His body and insides were trembling trying to warm him. Freezing cold air bit with fangs of ice at Light's cheeks and eyes. His whole body convulsed, and his stomach was in knots. He couldn't feel his fingertips or toes anymore, but the needles kept stabbing into his fingers and arms. Ever useless breath he struggled to take only sent shards of ice down his throat.

"Pathetic," A new voice came to Light's ears, a deep but smooth voice with a malice like no other. The bitterness in that one word was like a dog bite. Light struggled to find the owner and there was a new figure where L once stood. He bit viciously into his accustomed treat. "_God,_ like someone like you deserves that title." Mello bit.

Another wave of frigid air blew _through_ Light. As the shutters of cold rolled through Light's body again his mouth opened and, finally released a cry of pain. This was with much dissatisfaction.

"Trying to be something new; and you found you had something to prove. I might be dead, L might be dead, and Matt might be dead; well, no thanks to your ass. Was it worth it though, I hope so because it wouldn't have been if you just died without any kind of legacy." Not one word of what Mello said was sincere. He was reveling in the humiliating whimpers finally escaping Light's lips.

Light would have growled, but no sound but cries and screams were made. Tears fell from Light's eyes again, only to freeze to his cheeks. Ruthless laughter echoed in Light's mind.

"Are you ashamed of what you've done? Crying cause you're father's wrong?!" Mello cackled. "Crying cause your father's gone?!"

Light realized that the trembling was no longer due to the cold. He was shaking from tears. He was sobbing. His body shuttered with each whimper of pain, all along being emotional. The tears burned and froze his cheeks and eyes.

"If only your followers could see you now. You should be ashamed, bringing the hopes up for all those fools who were dreaming; kept dreaming 'til they hit the truth. Now, you're afraid of who you are! YOU'RE PATHETIC!" Light didn't understand why he was losing control. Stupidly, he questioned why these tears kept falling. Mello was wrong, right? He was wrong. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't a monster.

But who ever said that he was a monster?

He said it, Light did.

_I am, no _was_ a monster._

Real darkness fell. Mello's cackling vanished along with the cold, fire, and tears. Everything went dark and Light lost consciousness. He was out.

When Light 'opened' his eyes he saw the same blue light from before he died flash in front of his retinas and glared. He tried to squint but his eyes wouldn't shut because they weren't open to begin with.


	3. Chapter 3

**Guardian angels come in different shapes and sizes. Mello could use one when he finds himself in the Iron Lady's grasp. He loses his purpose, even though he only wants to win. (Yaaaaaay, no OOC warnings and I think this fic is encouraging)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note (that gets tedious) or Flyleaf, again.**

**Characters: Mello**

**Cage on the Ground:**

**-O-**

Bars were made for social interactions. Except, usually the people you meet at a bar are drunk and even if the conversation is perfect you forget them the next day. Often you make a fool of yourself because of your intoxicated state. That's what most would expect.

A certain blonde, who you would see more in a club atmosphere or in the back of a store talking business with sketchy characters, sat at one of the bar stools of a Scottish pub called the Iron Lady. He nursed a foul-tasting concoction that the barmaid recommended. Technically, he wasn't even supposed to be in the bar in the first place. He was seventeen. Yet his foul mood coupled with a fake ID got him in. He worked hard to find a way to get what he wanted. Recently, it was to get to a bar and wash his stress away with bourbon. He's main goal was to find, capture, and ultimately kill Kira. Not because he gave two shits about the world, and if it was safe. It _was_ safe three years ago, now he doubted it. He wanted Kira's head before his rival got it. That was it. Everything was not life, or love, or finding happiness. Everything was a competition.

At least that's what he felt like when the drink in his hand was a milk and chocolate syrup confection. Right now, as he sipped at his recommended alcohol, the world seemed to want him to give up. Competition was petty and stupid. Weren't people's lives more important? Yet, in the moment of feeling the fiery liquid burn his throat, even that seemed pointless. He wished he didn't have to do the things he did. He wished he could be seventeen, not a vengeful genius out for blood.

"What brings you here?" A husky voice came from beside Mello. He didn't turn his head but cut his eyes at the stranger. He was just another brute. Beard, smell, and even the stained shirt seemed pretty ordinary. The man wasn't fat or tall, but his muscles and scratchy face made Mello think, _Brute. _But the man wasn't Scottish.

"It's nothing to concern you with," Mello stated to thing man and scowled. The strangled chuckled and turned to the back of the bar where a solitary stool was placed. A microphone and stand next to the wood seat.

"Ah, another dreamer," He started, "They step onto the stage, and sing their hope, and their fear, and their rage." The originally cheery man now wore a sad smile. He sighs and his gaze casts down to the floor instead of the aforementioned dreamer. Mello narrows his eyes at the stranger. "But as the applause from this small crowd starts to fade they hear them swallow the keys to their cages."

Mello faces the man and listens to whatever he might say next. Instead, though, the dreamer walks up to the stool and sits. He carries with him his guitar and he adjusts the mic. He smiles wearily at the crowd of strangers and drunks. Mello anticipates sad, yet pathetic lyrics with mediocre cords. Instead the dreamer breathes his first verse.

"Welcome to the machine," He hums, "It's a currency generator." Mello shakes his head to rid his mind of the notes. This was just another song complaining about government. This was about money and its evil purposes. Mello didn't care about that even in his alcohol-muddled state. He cared about competition and beating Near and beating Kira.

"You know, drunks always have a reason for being a drunk. 'My wife died,' 'my family is boring,' 'alcohol numbs the pain.'" The stranger continues, "Strange stranger, you seem young, and something tells me you're plagued with more than just young people woes. Take my advice like my mother would tell me, when distinguish your name, it may extinguish your flame."

"I'm leaving my cage on the ground!" The dreamer sang from across the room.

"That sounds depressing," Mello retorted and took a gulp of his drink. He didn't want to think about how literal that statement was when it concerned him. He didn't doubt that one day he would be extinguished.

"But, stranger, the dreamer dances inside of his cage and all his music and words are the same. Don't let them extinguish your flame like they've mine or even that poor dreamer. Whatever your reasons may be, go after what you're thinking about. Nothing can hurt like dreaming and being known for nothing more than that." The man looked Mello in his blue eyes. His gaze bore into him. He wanted to shrink down into his glass, but something in the man's words seemed to silently plea with him.

"When I take my bow, I'm watching it burn to the ground!" The dreamer still sung now miles away.

Mello gulped, and took a large breath of nicotine and booze tinted air. He nodded to the stranger absently and left the Iron Lady. The dreamer's words still echoing from outside.

"That sounded a lot like encouragement." Mello pondered in the parking lot of the pub. "Whether I leave my hope behind and stay away from the mysterious mass murderer or march in. I'll disappear into the sound. I'll win, even if I die fighting. Winning is winning," He smiled honestly to himself and hummed the dreamer song to himself.

_I'm leaving my cage on the ground_.


	4. Chapter 4

**The ponderings of a soul soon to taste death's cold sting.**

**Characters: L**

**Song by Evanescence**

**Imaginary:**

**-O-**

_Why is that it was always raining, when something was sure to happen? _He pondered on the dampening rooftop. Something wasn't right, he knew this. Because he heard the most haunting sound imaginable. No matter how soothing they once were, he heard eardrum rupturing bell tolls. There must be a funeral, or wedding, but he guessed it was the former.

He had to drown out that noise. So, he began humming.

It was still sad somehow, the wordless tune becoming heartbreaking to him. Especially when he thought of the meaning of the imagined song. Except, he didn't know. Not knowing was his greatest fear. To one day say those words, and mean them whole-heartedly. That alone made his chest swell with emotion. The imaginings of someone who heard bell tolls, consistently ringing in the air as if counting off the minutes or seconds or hours. Counting down for what? He wanted to ask.

"I've lingered in a doorway." He whispered to himself, the pouring rain drowning out his voice. "Of alarm clocks screaming my name, let me stay where the wind will whisper to me." He wanted to scold himself for such useless personifying. Yet it was true, he knew this much. He wanted not to hear the tolling but the wind howling and winding through the city. "Where the raindrops, as they're falling, tell a story." But the bells drown out such wondrous tales.

It was such useless dreaming, to want something that was impossible.

Yet, he had seen what for all his life he knew and trusted to be simple horror stories. Why couldn't his imagining be real? "In a field of paper flowers, and candy clouds of lullaby," He dreamt allowed. The thought didn't even make sense, but it comforted him.

"I've lied inside myself for hours," He remembered. How he wished he could be alone again. With only his own musings. How he wanted to hear only the echo of his own voice. Tear-jerking thoughts intruded upon his daydreams, "I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge, the nightmare I built my own world to escape."

For once he wished he wasn't so introverted, to be among the average.

To be among the ignorant.

"Swallowed up in the sound of my screaming, I wish I could hide myself for hours, cannot cease for fear of silent nights, to take refuge in a sleeping state. The goddess of imaginary light. I feel as though I hold the world on my shoulders, as Atlas, yet I'm not so vain." He rambled on to himself. He sighs and catches the scent of parchment, freshly printed, "Paper flowers. Monsters."

He closed his eyes and reveled in the cold rain drops and pretended to be among the street goers. "Rampant chaos, your realty." _His realty_, he should say.

"Ryuuzaki!" And the dream he hoped to lie in, shattered like the hope of solving his hardest puzzle.

**This one was short. Oops, oh well, I consider this my magnum opus of songfics! Tell me if you agree or if you think I'm demented.**


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